Third Time's the Charm
by eggsaladstain
Summary: Vincent meets Catherine for the first time three times over the course of eleven years. COMPLETE.
1. The First Time

**Third Time's the Charm**

I.

The first time he meets her, it's her photograph.

...

He's finishing another routine check up when Dr. Chandler asks him what he misses most about home.

_Ma'am?_, he replies, confused. She's never asked about his personal life before.

_I'm just curious_, she replies,_ you don't have to answer if you don't feel comfortable._

He thinks about it for a moment. _I miss going out to the corner bar and getting a beer and greasy appetizers._

She laughs loudly and he can't help but smile in response. _What's so funny? I'm serious!_

_That sounds like something Catherine would say_, she answers, and then clarifies, _my oldest daughter._

Vincent chuckles, s_he sounds like my type of girl._

He realizes how awkward it sounds as soon as he says it, and tries to apologize._ I didn't mean..._

Dr. Chandler shakes her head and laughs again, _I know._

A silence falls between them and he notices her smile fade away.

_You must miss them._

A wistful look crosses her face, and she nods._ Every day_, she says, then turns to him and smiles._ But the work we do here will make the world a safer place for them, so it's worth it even if I have to leave them behind._

He doesn't know what to say to that, he was never very good with words, so he's relieved when a beeping starts coming from her coat pocket. She pulls out her phone and gives him an apologetic smile.

_If you'll excuse me, Vincent, there's somewhere else I need to be. I'll see you at your next check up._

She starts to walk away when he thinks of something. _Dr. Chandler_, he calls after her.

She turns around mid-step. _Yes, Vincent?_

_Does it get easier? Being away from them?_

She gives him a small smile, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes.

_No_, she shakes her head._ It never does._

She disappears into the hall and he sits up, her words ringing in his ears. No, it doesn't get easier, so he can only hope that it'll all be worth it in the end, for her sake, for her daughters'.

He gets up to leave and his elbow catches her purse, sending it tumbling to the ground. Her wallet falls out and when he picks it up, a piece of paper flutters to the ground. He reaches down. It's a photograph of two women - an old picture, judging by the frayed edges - with their arms wrapped around each other, bright smiles on both of their faces. These must be her daughters.

They're both beautiful, but the one on the left - wearing a tiara and holding a bouquet - there's something about her. There's something about her eyes, a brightness that draws him in, and he can't look away.

He sees a crease along the picture and tries to smooth it out, his finger brushing over her cheek.

(Many years later, it's _her_ hand on _his _cheek.)

He tucks the photo into the wallet and places it back in her bag, but not before noticing the faded ink on the back, the delicate cursive - _Catherine's birthday, 2001_.

_Catherine_, he says out loud.

And that was the first time.


	2. The Second Time

**Third Time's the Charm**

II.

The second time he meets her, he's not himself.

...

It's two years after he first saw her photograph, though he doesn't remember it. He doesn't remember much of anything about the past couple years, especially not the details. To fill in the blanks, he keeps tabs on anything related to Muirfield, but there's not much. When they shut it down, they meant it.

His big break comes one day when he discovers agents tailing a woman named Vanessa Chandler.

The name sounds familiar, but he doesn't know why. It's a different memory, another one he hasn't remembered yet.

He tracks the agents for weeks before they make their move, one fall night at an old bar called the Salty Dawg Saloon. The government-issue sedan pulls into the parking lot and he ducks back behind the building. He hears voices, female, and looks around the corner just as the agents step out.

It feels wrong in an instant, and before he can react, before he can shout a warning, he hears the explosion of gunfire. It's a sound he hasn't heard in years, and it takes him straight back to Afghanistan. Back to the war, back to the violence, back to the death.

His heart is pounding so fast it feels like it could beat out of his chest and his breathing is loud and ragged to his ears. He falls to his knees and shakes his head, trying to clear his blurry vision, but even the spots in front of his eyes can't hide what he sees - instead of his fingers, claws.

No. Not this again.

All the while, the sound of gunfire continues, and with each shot, his head screams in agony, as if the bullets are ripping through him instead. The last sound he hears is a shrill, strangled scream, and then everything goes dark.

When he opens his eyes, they're golden instead of brown.

He stands up, flexes his claws, and rushes over to the woman lying on the pavement. The smell of blood is so overwhelming that he can barely notice anything else, and he twitches in surprise when he feels her hand on his face.

(Many years later, it's a different hand, her daughter's hand on his face.)

The woman stares at him and coughs, spitting out blood. _Vincent_, she gasps.

He growls in response. She knows him, but how?

He focuses his eyes on her face. Her skin is pale and her glasses are skewed. Her glasses. She didn't always wear glasses.

Chandler, he finally remembers. The doctor.

He reaches his arms out to lift her, but she shakes her head. _No_, she chokes out. _I'll be fine._

He shakes his head and grunts.

_I've already called the police_, she groans. _But my daughter's still out there!_ She coughs again and blood lands on his shirt._ Please_, she begs, _save my daughter instead._

He lifts his head and looks into the forest. He hears three sets of footsteps. It's two against one.

She grabs onto his arm tightly and he looks back into her eyes.

_Save Catherine._

He nods, and she sighs, loosening her grip. She gives him a small smile and pats him on the arm._ You were always one of the good ones_, she whispers.

He turns away and runs towards the trees. The forest becomes a blur around him as he races through the darkness. In front of him, he can hear footsteps. Behind him, the sound of Chandler's heartbeat. The footsteps get faster. The heartbeat slows down.

At the same time, both sounds stop.

He whips his head around and jerks to a halt. Her heartbeat is gone - she's gone. But there's no time to stop. He has a promise to keep.

_Save Catherine._ Catherine. He knows that name, he's seen her face. He remembers an old photograph.

The smell of blood reaches his nose again, and this time it's hers. Catherine's.

He sees the backs of the two men and ducks behind a bush. She's on the ground, crawling away from them, crying.

_Please_, she whispers.

They pull out their guns again, and this time, he does react. With a roar, he lunges at them, tackling them to the ground. Leading them away from her, he gets a knee in the chest, a fist in the face. He strikes back, sinking his claws into flesh and bone, stopping only once they're still. They won't be hurting her. They won't be hurting anyone again.

He catches his breath and turns around, seeing her for the first time. Dark hair. Bright eyes. She looks the same.

She stares back at him, mouth open, but doesn't make a sound. He should leave, now, before she sees anything else. His ears pick up the sound of sirens, faint, but growing louder and louder. He needs to leave. Now.

His legs move forward instead and he steps, just enough, into the light. Just enough for her to see.

She looks into his eyes and closes her mouth. She doesn't scream.

The sirens are coming closer. His eyes sweep over her one last time, memorizing her face. Dark hair, bright eyes. Always the same.

A sound escapes his lips just before he disappears into the night.

She hears it as a growl, but what he says is her name.

_Catherine._

And that was the second time.


	3. The Third Time

**Third Time's the Charm**

III.

The third time he meets her, it's for real.

...

The morning after he saves her, he wakes up at home with a pounding headache and no recollection of the past twelve hours. The last thing he remembers is tracking the Muirfield agents...an old bar...gunshots...then a scream.

He splashes cold water in his face and grips his hands on the sink. In the mirror, he sees bloodshot eyes, pale skin. There are dark stains on his shirt, blood, judging by the faint copper smell. He's not sure which worries him more - that it might be his or the chance that it's not.

A door creaks open and JT's voice travels up the stairs, along with the sound of his pounding feet. _What the hell did you do last night?_

He turns in surprise. _What are you talking about?_

JT sets his coffee down and tosses a newspaper onto the table._ I'm talking about this_, he opens the paper to an inside spread. The headline makes his heart stop cold.

_Murder Victim's Daughter Claims "Beast" Saved Her._

What the hell did he do last night?

The chair scrapes across the floor as he pulls it out and takes a seat. He picks up the paper in his hands, his eyes falling to the photo. The woman looks shaken, like she's_ seen_ things. What has she seen?

He scans over the article quickly and sighs in relief. She hasn't seen anything, at least, nothing that could expose him. He sets the paper down, but a word catches his eye. A name. _Catherine._ His eyes go back to the photo and he studies it carefully. He knows that name. He knows that face.

He's never remembered anything from a blackout before, but somehow, he remembers her.

Brushing off JT's questions with a casual,_ everything's fine_, he tears out the page and goes over to the computer. It's not hard to track her down, and within seconds, he's found out more about her than he's comfortable knowing. Her birthday is coming up soon, he notices, and despite what logic says - that he can't get involved, that it's too dangerous, too risky - he feels he should pay her a visit.

He wants to check up on her, make sure she's okay - he used to be a doctor, after all - but it's more than that. He feels responsible for her. It was her mother he was tracking that night, it was her mother he failed to protect. He won't fail her too. He can't.

He scribbles her address on a piece of paper and circles her birthday on the calendar. When the day arrives, he shoves the paper in his pocket and grabs a jacket. JT stops him as he heads down the stairs._ Where are you going?_

He pulls his hood over his head and opens the door. _I have a promise to keep._

...

It's evening by the time he reaches her house, but it's easy to spot, even in the dark. There are balloons wrapped around the mailbox and he can hear music coming from inside. He looks up and down the street - it's empty - and moves closer to the house, peering into the living room window. It's full of people, chatting, laughing, dancing. He spots her in the middle. She looks happy.

He exhales. That was all he wanted to know, that was all he_ needed_ to know. He turns to leave, and at the same time, she excuses herself from her friends. He looks back and sees her walk upstairs, hears a door close upstairs. Blocking out the sound of the party, he makes out the sound of her shuffling feet, then silence.

He's completely unprepared for what he hears next - crying. Quiet, choking sobs, a sound so heart-wrenching he wishes he couldn't hear it. He wishes he had left when she was still happy.

He came here to make sure she was okay, but he never expected, never wanted, to see her so broken. Turning away, he walks back down the street, the sound of her cries getting softer and softer.

He had never planned on visiting her again after that night, but the sound of her cries stays with him, and that's not how he wants to remember her. He wants to hear her laugh.

One year later, he finds himself outside her house again. She's on her way out with friends and they all pile into a car and drive off. The year after that, there are boxes everywhere - she's moving. She looks better this time, but he feels panic rise in his throat. He's not ready to say goodbye.

It takes him some time, but he finds her again, and the next year, she's not renting a house with roommates, she has her own apartment. The space is smaller, but the party isn't, with streamers, balloons, and confetti everywhere, and music blasting until the neighbors yell at them to turn it down.

Every year, it's a party, and every year, he watches from outside. Over time, she looks happier and happier, and one year, he finally hears her laugh. It sounds exactly as he hoped it would - bright, full of life. After hearing that sound, he's finally ready to let go.

He turns and walks away, her name, her face, the sound of her laughter etched into his memory.

_Happy Birthday, Catherine_, he says into the night.

_Goodbye._

...

And that should be the end of it. That should be the last time. But life never goes the way it should, not for him, not for her, and many months later, it's her showing up at his house, peeking into his windows. Many months later, it's _her_ tracking_ him_.

He hears tires against the gravel one day and sees a black SUV stop in front of the gate. Two women step out, and even though the wind blows their hair into their faces, he knows one of them is Catherine. His heart skips a beat.

Catherine. Here.

He pulls back from the window. She shouldn't be here. He had said goodbye, he had let her go. He isn't supposed to see her again, but here she is, walking up to his door.

How did she find him? How did she even know to look?

She steps inside and he hears her feet on the ground, her voice filling the silence. He pinches himself and wonders if she's real.

(A few nights later, she puts her hand on his cheek, and he feels that she is.)

After a brief interrogation of JT, she and her partner leave. He watches her walk away and wonders if this will be the last time. Then she turns her head back, looking for something - for him - and he knows it's not. There's a look in her eyes that says she'll be back.

Sure enough, a few days later, while JT is out, her car pulls up and she steps out again. This time, she's alone. She comes in even though she hasn't been invited, and he would laugh at the fact that she's breaking and entering if he weren't so worried about being discovered.

She makes her way upstairs and it's too late for him to hide, so he steps, just enough, into the light. Just enough for her to see.

Her eyes grow wide and he remembers that look on her face. It's the same look she had that night in the woods, the first time she saw him.

_You're Vincent Keller_, she says, lowering her gun.

_And you're Catherine Chandler_, he wants to say, but doesn't.

She stares at him and he stares back. There's recognition in both their eyes.

_Vincent._

_Catherine._

And that was the third time.

...

Vincent meets Catherine for the first time three times over the course of eleven years. The first time, it's her photograph. The second time, he's not himself. But the third time, the third time's the charm.

Because the third time he meets her, their story finally begins.

...

_Fin._


End file.
